Let Them Ponies Run
by geturkicks66
Summary: Heath confronts part of his past.
1. Chapter 1

We knew that the war was coming before the rest of the country. Riders coming from the east had given us the news.

We ran a Pony Express station, a few miles out of Strawberry, California. We were the second relay station after crossing the boundary, 1966 miles east of Sacramento.

The closest the telegraph had gotten from the east at the start of the Pony Express was to St. Joseph, Missouri. The riders carried the mail to Sacramento, California, where the mail would be put on a steamer to San Francisco. Sometimes the riders arrived too late and they would have to carry the mail overland to Oakland.

The poster that brought us the riders we needed read:

_Wanted: Young skinny fellows not over 18. Must be expert pony riders, willing to risk death daily. Orphans Preferred._

Orphans preferred, those where haunting words, to know that there was no one who would miss these boys should they fall to a highwayman's bullet or and Indian's arrow. On the safe side, for the company, there were no benefits to be paid out to grieving families

One of the riders that fit the bill was a 12 year old local boy, named Heath Thomson. He was a tall, lanky fellow with sandy brown hair and gentle blue eyes. He never spoken much about his family and even at his young age we could tell his life had been hard. He wasn't carefree like most of the other boys that rode for us. He worked hard, riding often, taking runs that the other riders didn't want. or cleaning the stalls, and grooming the horses. He made friends quickly; he had something that drew folks to him. The boy could handle any horse we had at the station, and could he ride! Heath was at home in the saddle. We realized that this was Heath's way of escaping from whatever it was that was hounding him, but it was only to be short lived. In October 1861, the wire finally connected the space in between St. Joseph and Sacramento, and the Pony Express ran no more.

If we had children Henry would have liked to have had a son like Heath. He and Henry would talk non-stop of horses, and the pair often chose the best lot at auctions. Henry relied upon Heath's keen eye for good horses. He stayed on til fall of 1862, and then he too went to fight in the east. Henry tried to talk him out of it, telling the boy he was too young. Heath had agreed, however his argument was that his mother needed the money. We had a feeling there was more to it than what he told us. I never knew for which side he fought or even if he had made it home after the war.

For a year after Heath left, Henry stayed and we tried to raise some cattle and a few horses, but his need to go fight won as well and he left that spring. All though my heart was breaking with the thought of him being so far from home, I knew that he felt it was something he had to do and I knew that I had to let him do it.

There had not been a day that passed that I was not thinking of him. My husband of five years, Henry Roberts, had gone off and joined the Union army to fight in a war. I cried at first, even though I knew it would not bring him home any sooner. The days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months, and they drifted to years.

I kept the ranch going, by not only doing my chores but also those that Henry would have done. I cleaned the house, tended the garden, canned all I could for winter stock, and tended the chickens. I sat up on the roof of the barn replacing shingles, when the wind had blown them off, and I fixed the fence that the milk cow kept escaping through. I had managed to run a small herd of beef cattle and with the help of some local men or the occasional drifter, I managed to put up hay and brand calves. I sold a few head when money was tight. There was no way of paying these men other than trading eggs and baked goods for their labors. I even did their laundry and mended their clothing, a chore I found that most men lacked a skill in.

I would occasionally receive word from Henry. He wasn't much for writing, saying that he was doing well and how much he missed me; he also sent what money he could. In one letter he mentioned a company of sharpshooters.

_May, I was surprised when a company of sharpshooters arrived. But I was more surprised that I knew one of the young men. Oh, Em it was Heath - my heart sank to think about the hell this boy was going through just to stay away from home and yet care for his mother at the same time._

_They have done their job and are pulling out in the morning, to where they are still unsure. This has been the first time I have had the opportunity to speak to Heath. He is a shadow of the boy who rode for us. The boy is an excellent marksman and is well liked in his company. But I fear for him and what this war will leave in the minds of all that survive it._

Each letter received made me miss him more and I longed for the day he would ride down the road to our cabin. What letters I did receive I treasured, even though at that time I didn't foresee that they would be all I would have left of Henry.

The news came to me by telegraph - one of the boys brought out the wire from town. I read it in numbness, the words blearing, as my eyes filled with tears, each time I read it.

_Sorry to inform you that your husband, Captain Henry J Roberts of the Unions 6__th__ Calvary was killed doing his commander proud in Atlanta, Georgia, July 22, 1864._

I just stood in the doorway of our cabin looking at that yellow paper, knowing that my life with Henry was over, unsure of how or even if I could move on. I stepped back into the cabin and closed the door. Laying in the darkness on the bed that we shared, I cried until I could cry no more. All my strength left me. The void of his departure now filled with a wrenching pain so deep that I thought I would never love again. I didn't want to live, not without Henry.

Numbness took over. At first, I stayed in bed not bothering to get up to care for the cabin or myself. All my thoughts were around the one person who now would no longer be returning to me. For three days I stayed in that bed, not moving or eating just laying there remembering the things we would talk about, all our hopes and dreams of a future that would no longer be possible with Henry's death.

On the fourth day, I went and sat on the porch looking at nothing, thinking nothing. I sat there all night and well into the next day when finally something snapped in my head. I looked out at the empty corrals and then down the lane.

There was something there! A horse and rider coming were coming down the lane! My heart pounded knowing that it had to be Henry, even when my mind was telling me he wasn't coming home. My heart whispered a hope that the telegram had been wrong, they had made a mistake.

Then he was in front of me.

My Henry - standing in front of me, looking just the way he had when he left. His green eyes were looking into mine and with that slight smile he always wore, even when he was mad. The light brown hair was slicked back under his sweat stained hat. He looked at the empty corrals and the barn that was in need of repair and when he looked back at me, I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

"I didn't expect the place to be so in need." He looked at the house and my unkempt self. "You'll need some help around here, May." He always called me May even though my name was Emily Sue. I didn't mind though, it showed me how much he loved me.

Henry took a step onto the porch and spoke in almost a whisper. I could feel his breath against my skin as he spoke.

"We didn't come all the way from Indiana; suffer through drought, flood and snow to have you quit now. You're a strong woman, May, that's one of the qualities I love about you." He paused and placed his hand over my heart, I could feel it thumping in my chest, "I may be gone from this earth, but I will live forever in your heart."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and when I opened them, he was gone. I knew then, in my mind and heart that he would never come home. I sighed and turned to go back into the cabin, thinking over his words. I had a week worth of cleaning to do and a ranch to put back together.

It took me over ten years to pull this ranch out of the hole it had been in. With very little money, I had managed to turn the place around. Before they had gone off to fight in the war, Henry and Heath had bought some young stock. Henry said they were the best cutting horses he had seen in some time.

I had hired a man to help around the place; he would break the young stuff and help with the breeding, and anything else that needed to be done. I found an outlet for my horses every year at the sales in the area. Not to be bragging, but most of the time my stock had the highest bids.

Out of the blue, the hired hand up and left. But he didn't go empty handed. No, he took my stallion and four fillies. Without that stallion my future was sunk. Once again my ranch sank into disrepair, I was scratching out a living or something that came close to being called living. I had sold off the last of my small herd of cattle and I was hard pressed to take care of the horses that I had left. Finally I had turned them out onto the range in hopes of finding someway to save my ranch.

Strawberry had at one time been a booming town. When the mines played out, the town began to lose its citizens. Folks headed off to other parts looking for a way to feed their families.

Now the little town was almost empty. It still had a hotel, a dry goods store, a saloon, and little else to offer. Occasionally a stage would rumble through but it only stayed long enough to get fresh horses or have something repaired.

It was getting close to dinner time; as I turned to go into the cabin, I noticed a horse and rider coming down the lane. He rode slowly, looking at the ranch and its ramshackle state. There was something familiar about this young man, and it nagged my mind, trying to place him. He stopped a few feet away from the porch. I couldn't make out much of his features; he had his hat pulled low.

"Can I help you?" I asked being friendly. He didn't answer right away, just sat there looking at the cabin and me. His gaze made me very aware of my disarrayed state.

"I had heard in town that you raised some of the best horses in these parts," he said. He had a soft drawl, the kind of drawl a girl would swoon for every time he spoke.

"Whoever told you that must not have heard that I had some of my best stuff stolen, about a month or so back."

The man had been leaning on his saddle horn while I told him that, when I was done speaking, he had straightened up, picked up the reins, and made as if to go. But he continued to look at me.

"Right sorry to hear that, I was lookin for some good horses." He nodded his head, and turned the bay. It was then I noticed the brand on the left shoulder it was the Slash B. I searched my memory and knew I had seen that brand before. It was the Barkley brand. We had done some business with a Tom Barkley down in Stockton years before. But word had come up that Tom had been killed and the sons had taken over the ranch. The Barkleys frequently attended the horse sales, usually buying all the best stock they could lay their hands on, mine included.

"You're with the Barkleys?" I asked.

"Yes, ma'am we're looking for a place to hold our horse herd for about a month." The bay he was riding shifted his weight and turned its head to look back down the lane. The sound of thunder came down the lane. I looked to see a herd of horses, close to thirty head of some of the finest stock I had ever laid my eyes on, come into the yard. The bay and its rider had moved over to the corral and opened the gate. The herd swung into the pasture heading to the pond to drink and as the last horses passed through the gate, the bay's rider swung it shut and waited for the two riders that followed.

Now I was stormin mad! No one rides onto my place and just makes themselves at home unless they've been invited. I went into the house and grabbed Henry's old scatter gun I kept by the door. As I made my way across the yard, I could see the rider on the bay talking to the two other riders who'd come into the yard. . The man dressed in black and riding the liver chestnut gelding looked my way as I approached with the scatter gun ready to defend my ranch. He made a quick gesture with his hand causing the other two to look up. The man riding the chestnut with the wide blaze on its face questioned the rider on the bay, who looked my direction, then pushed his hat back so that I could see his features. My hand went to my mouth. I recognized the rider now!

Heath Thomson!


	2. Chapter 2

Heath had a sly grin on his face when he came back over to me. He dismounted, sweeping his hat off his head and gave me the sweetest smile.

"How ya been Mrs. Roberts?" he had asked the question out of politeness. He could see how I was doing, but I smiled at him and gave him a quick hug.

"You always were a polite one, Heath Thomson." I said as I slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"I'm glad to see that you made it through the war in one piece." I said noticing that his smiled faded a bit and I could see in his blue eyes that he hadn't escaped from hurt. I changed the subject. "What are you boys doing here?"

"Headed for home," he said glad for the change in the conversation, "There was a horse auction in Oregon."

I looked at his other riders, "You're doing well then, Heath?"

The smile was quick. "Yes ma'am." He hesitated again, "Seems that I had a family I didn't know about, til mama passed away."

I looked at the riders that had gathered near where we stood talking. "The Barkleys?" I asked.

Heath nodded, "Tom Barkley turns out is my father."

I didn't push for more information and waited for introductions. When he hadn't offered any, I pointed to the other men and asked, "You going to introduce them?"

"Yes, ma'am." He walked over to the two riders, who had by now dismounted.

"This is my oldest brother Jarrod. The fellow next to him is my other brother, Nick." They each shook my hand and nodded a hello.

"I don't have much to offer you boys, in way of a meal or a place to sleep." I started to offer them some coffee, when Heath interrupted.

"Mrs. Roberts, we wanted to hold over for a few days to let the horses rest. We're willing to pay for the use of your pasture and the bunkhouse." I looked over at the old bunkhouse. The last time it was used it held the six express riders and hadn't been used much since. I looked at them all as they waited for my answer.

"I'll take five dollars a day, which includes the use of the bunkhouse and meals." It had been a direct question and I gave them a direct answer.

Jarrod nodded his head "Sounds fair." He stepped forward and gave me fifteen dollars. "We will be staying three days for sure, after that we'll let you know." I nodded looking at the money that he placed into my hands. My hands trembled with the feel of it. It was going to be nice cooking for someone other than myself.

I smiled and headed toward the cabin. "I'll have supper ready in an hour. You boys get settled in the bunkhouse."

From the kitchen window I watched as Heath, Jarrod and Nick talked. They had a way about them. I noticed that when Heath spoke, his brothers would listen and Heath in turn would listen to them. They acted like a team; each knowing what was expected of the other. I thought sadly that it was too bad that Heath hadn't grown up with them; maybe things would have been different. I put some water on the stove to boil so we all could have coffee with our supper. I looked into the bare pantry and sighed.

It wasn't much as meals go. All I had to offer was boiled potatoes and beans. Those boys didn't complain about it at all. Heath looked around and gave a nod to Jarrod, but no words were spoken, other than a comment in reference to Heath's trail cooking.

"Beats bullfrog stew any day!" exclaimed Nick getting a chuckle from Jarrod as Heath mocked hurt, then smiled.

Later that evening, after I had gotten the dishes done and the floor swept, I stepped out into the coolness of the evening. Heath was sitting on the steps with his back against the post. I sat down in the old rocking chair and waited. A woman can always tell when a man wants to talk.

Heath took a drag off his cigarette then asked, "Do you have any horses left, Mrs. Roberts?"

"There are a few," I said, wondering why he was interested. But he changed the subject.

"Henry never made it home?" he asked softly, even though I was certain that he already knew the answer.

"No he didn't. He was killed in Georgia." I paused for a moment to push the feelings of his loss aside. "He had written, said that he seen ya in Tennessee." He nodded and took another drag.

I knew that as a courtesy you weren't to ask a body from where they had come or anything about the person unless it was offered freely. I had known little of Heath before the war and knew even less now, but I went ahead and asked the questions feeling that he wouldn't be offended.

"You seemed to have made it through the war with out a scratch." He took a moment before he answered.

"No ma'am, I got my scratches. They have caused me more trouble than I'd care to tell you right now."

I looked closely at Heath. The young rider that had ridden for us so many years before was gone. I recalled the words Henry had wrote, "_He is a shadow of the boy who rode for us." _ This leaner quieter version was a man to be reckoned with if pushed. His quiet manner and the tied down gun spoke of that.

"Maybe one day you'll tell me about it." I said, he nodded his head taking another drag from his cigarette, I decided to change the subject.

"Yeah, one day maybe." He said quietly as he watched Nick approach the porch.

"How long you been with the Barkleys?" It was my turn to change the subject. I knew from experience that pondering on the past for to long would bring you down.

"Almost a year, but seems like I've always been there," He smiled. "My introduction to the family wasn't one of my best thought out plans." He dropped his head in thought for a moment. Nick stopped next to us, one foot on the porch. He leaned his tall frame forward and crossing his arms across the raised leg.

"Heath hasn't been trying get you to let him use your kitchen so he can make his famous bullfrog stew, has he?" he looked at Heath and smiled, then looked back to me, "Might be safer if we just left the cook'in up to you Mrs. Roberts."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Nick Barkley!"

"Oh don't you worry any, big brother; there are plenty of opportunities for me to fix bullfrog stew. Why, I think we have to get these ponies home, and then later we have round up. Then a herd to trail up to the railhead… yep, I 'd say there are plenty of opportunities." Heath smiled, his voice was light, as his brother grimaced. Nick took advantage of the quiet to change the subject.

"Mrs. Roberts, we were wondering if you would be interested in adding your horses to our herd." Nick paused looking at the barn. "The money from selling them would help you get another herd started and fix the place." So it had finally come out. I thought for a moment. It would make sense to sell all the horses save some of the good mares, and purchase another stallion. Henry would have done it. Yet I felt that I had no right asking these boys to round up my herd. Still, on the other hand they were offering and the money I got from selling the herd would get me started again.

"Sound good. You'll have to round them up. They have been running the valley north of here for the last couple of months. "

"We'll get started in the morning," said Heath as he stood to leave, and then stopped.

"Thanks for not pushing." he said, then followed his brother to the bunkhouse. Nick looked from Heath back to me and gave me a small smile. By that small gesture I knew that the brothers were still learning about Heath, and for whatever it was worth my talking to him may help open the door for Nick and Jarrod.


	3. Chapter 3

I rose early the next morning and managed to give the boys a good breakfast. I made biscuits with the wild berry jelly I had made eggs and sliced ham, with the ever necessary staple, coffee.

It was music to my ears to hear the banter between the three boys. It took me back again to the times when the Express was running. Nick and Heath had headed out first thing this morning to look over my horse herd and Jarrod had headed into Strawberry to get supplies.

It was late afternoon; I was sweeping the porch when I heard horses coming down the lane. Looking up I saw Jarrod, with two pack horses stop in front of the porch.

"Mrs. Roberts. I figured that with all these extra mouths to feed you would need some extra supplies," said Jarrod with a smile that would melt your heart. And those blue eyes: this Barkley could charm the socks off of a snake.

"Don't take it like its charity ma'am, because we men can eat," smiled Jarrod, as he began to unload the horses.

"Truth be told, I could use the help. My garden hasn't produced enough with the lack of rain. " I said to ease his mind a bit.

"By the way, I met up with friend yours. Man by the name of Matt Simmons." I stopped unloading the food supply.

"Simmons is no friend of mine. He and his wife own the hotel. I don't trust the pair of them. He has been tryin to get me off this place since word came of Henry's death. I wouldn't sell then and I'm sure not selling now!"

Heath had walked up at the last statement, "Selling to whom?"

"A man in town, Matt Simmons," said Jarrod. We watched the change that came over Heath. He stiffened at the mention of Simmons' name and his eyes filled with hate, though when he spoke I couldn't hear any trace of it in his voice.

"They're still around?" he asked.

"Do you know them?" asked Jarrod. Heath nodded, but didn't explain. He turned quickly and headed towards the barn. It wasn't much later that Heath led out the bay horse saddled; he vaulted into the saddle and headed down the lane towards Strawberry.

Without thinking Nick muttered, "More of that boy's past, snipping at his heels."

I turned to him, "You knew about Strawberry?"

"We know just what Heath has told us and that is damn little," said Nick as he toed the dirt with his boot.

Jarrod stepped in, "Maybe you can tell us something of Heath's past here in Strawberry, Mrs. Roberts?"

They both looked hopeful. I sighed - they had a right to know, to help Heath and yet they needed to hear it from him, not me. But my desire to help them all out overruled my mind.

"What I know is about his time here, and bits are pieces of information that I picked up while in town over the years. You boys had better come inside and I'll fix some coffee." I said as I held the door open to allow them entry.

The Barkleys knew that Heath had been born in Strawberry and that his mama lay buried in the small weed infested cemetery on the other side of town. But it was his life here they knew nothing about. So I began with the Simmons family.

"Matt and Martha Simmons are Heath's uncle and aunt." Both men where shocked into silence.

"I didn't know all of Heath's life here in Strawberry. Henry and I had arrived a year before the Pony express started. There had been times when the boy went into town for us only to return with fresh cuts and bruises. I would doctor the hurts that he would let me see, he kept a lot hidden even from Henry."

I told them of Hannah and Rachael. When asked if they still lived nearby, I nodded.

"Hannah lives in Heath's old house. He gave it to her when he left after his mother had passed on." I hesitated on the next part and both men noticed.

"What about Rachael?" Jarrod asked.

I sighed, "She is dead. It is rumored that the Simmons killed her, but there is no proof. They found her body in one of the abandoned mines, looked like she had fallen through one of the mine's air shafts."

"Why did ya say it's rumored the Simmons killed her? How'd she fall?" Nick asked as he stood with his arms crossed by the window that looked down the lane.

"I really don't know. Just that it is whispered around town that she knew something that could put them both away for a long time."

Jarrod had been nursing a cup of coffee, while I had told them of what I knew. He raised his dark head and fixed those blue eyes on me.

"What did she know?" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, "Boys, this is where I draw the line. Heath has been pulling a heavy load for some years; I think it best that he is the one who unloads it."

"Like that is going to be easy." said Nick as he moved from the window to stand behind one of the empty chairs. He dropped his arms and leaned on the back of the chair.

"We won't have to ask him, Nick, he will come and ask us." replied Jarrod as a memory from long ago ran through his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been over a week since Heath had ridden out toward Strawberry. When he returned, he hadn't said anything to any of us. Nick and Jarrod tried to get him to talk about it, but soon gave up.

Rounding up my horses and getting them branded took up most of the week and gave the boys an outlet for their anger, though they never showed it towards each other.

I would look at the young fillies and mares, selecting the ones that I would use as broodmares. There were several nice colts, but none that I really liked. The boys gelded them and put them in the pen with the stuff that needed to be broke.

"Miss May, you have just over a hundred head that can go to market. There is fifty head of breeding stock that you can either leave up or kick back out to the pasture," reported Nick. I smiled when he said my name. It had been a chore to get them to quit calling me Mrs. Roberts or ma'am - two names that made me feel older than I was. We were standing at the corral fence admiring the stock that I was going to keep when Heath came over mounted on his bay horse.

"Where ya headin boy?" asked Nick in his not so subtle way.

"I thought I would go visit Hannah. See if she needed anything."

"I'll ride along with ya." said Nick as he moved off to get his horse. Heath's quiet tone stopped him.

"No Nick. I need to be alone right now." Before Nick could reply Heath kicked his horse into a lope heading down the lane. Nick's face showed hurt; I patted him on the arm.

"It takes patience waiting for him to open up." I smiled at him, "Give him time, Nick."

"Til there isn't any left." replied Nick.

Heath hated to lie to his brother. He did need to be alone, but what he had in mind was a final confrontation with his aunt and uncle. He knew that his past was eating at his very soul, and the life line he held onto was the family he now had with the Barkleys.

Riding into Strawberry, the very smell of this place made him sick. All the town's building were in a state of decay. Weeds grew between the boardwalk, and the alleyways were choked with debris. The wind blew through broken windows making a moaning sound like a dying animal. One light of a match and there would be nothing left of the town.

Heath didn't hesitate until he pulled Charger to a stop in front of the hotel, then it was only a slight pause as he stepped down and looped the reins over the hitching post. Charger rubbed his head on the decaying wood. Heath gave him a small pat on the neck. All the emotions he had held in where now close to the surface.

The bell rang as Heath pushed open the hotel door. He shivered as the memories swirled around him like a twirling dancer. He looked around the dirty room noting that nothing had changed. It was the same worn rug on the floor and the same faded upholstered furniture.

"Well I wondered when you would show up," said a feminine voice in the doorway that leads to the dinning area. Heath turned to find Martha Simmons, her arms folded across her chest, leaning in the doorway.

"Matt said that the Barkleys were staying out at the old pony express station. He recognized Jarrod the day he rode in here for supplies. I am surprised they let you stay with them."

"What's that suppose to mean?" asked Heath trying not to feel like a steer going to slaughter.

"You being a bastard and all. I just didn't think they would let you stay."

"Now, Martha is that any way to speak to our nephew?" Heath turned his head to see Matt standing on the stairs behind the hotel desk. Martha moved to lean on the desk as Matt descended the rest of the way to stand behind the desk.

"What do you want?" asked Heath

"You came to us boy, so what is it that you want?" asked Matt as he leaned on the desk.

"All I want is for you to leave me alone," replied Heath as he started for the door realizing that it was a mistake to come here. The closeness of the memories Heath thought he had finally conquered were swimming in his mind filling his senses and making him dizzy.

"I can't leave ya alone boy. There is a little matter of you owing us some money." Heath stopped with his hand on the door. He sighed and turned figuring to get this over with once and for all, like he planned.

"What money?"

"It costs money to take care of a growing child. Food, clothing and a place to sleep, your mother couldn't do all that by herself. She had to have help, and it came from us."

"Food - scraps not fit for a dog. Mama saw to it I had clothes and your idea of a place to sleep was a straw filled mattress in the cellar. I slept better at the livery. I don't owe you anything, not then and not now!" Heath had let go of the door and stood in the middle of the room.

"Well boy that's where you're wrong," said Matt with a snug smile that made Heath want to punch it off his face. "Ya see your mother gave up her rights to you, when you were six years old. We had it all done legal like, so there wouldn't be any problems."

Heath was speechless; his mother wouldn't give him to these people, traded like a horse to be used as they seen fit.

"I don't believe you," Heath hissed.

"Then believe this!" said Martha as she tossed an envelope at him. Slowly he opened it and read the contents; he looked at the smiling faces of Matt and Martha.

"You knew that Tom Barkley was my father?" he asked.

Matt laughed, "Yep. I went over there myself to see about getting money to help raise you. Drug you with me so he could see for himself that you were his kid. He took one look at you and had us escorted off that fancy ranch of his. He didn't believe you were his kid." Matt paused then smiled again, "Ask your lawyer brother, he was there that day. You ask him, he'll tell ya. He even remembered me."

"The only reason I suppose you're even with the Barkleys is that Jarrod feels guilty for his father's actions." Martha sighed, a hard glint in her eyes, "It had to be something to see. Tom Barkley denying your right to the Barkley name. I guess they all feel guilty for turning you out all those years ago, that's why they took you in now."

"It was a terrible thing to witness. We took the only route left, to become your guardians," agreed Matt.

"The judge only saw it fitting to give us guardianship, with your mother's loose morals. A woman like that has no business raising a child," chided Martha.

"What loose morals?"

"Oh Heath," laughed Martha, "you're a grown man; you know what goes on in a saloon. And she let you work in those mines, knowing the dangers."

"My mother wasn't like that," said Heath through clenched teeth.

"What do you remember? Her coming home every night too tired to cook you a meal, staying up half the night sewing for the fine ladies of our fair community?"

"What do you want?" asked Heath, trying hard to hold his temper.

"We want reimbursement for your care, and what we spent on you," replied Martha.

"You owe us your earnings from the Pony Express and when you were in the army. Which, we figured to be around $5,000.00 dollars," stated Matt as he came around the desk to stand next to Martha.

"Oh and I am sure we can find ways for you to pay that off," whispered Martha as she walked around Heath running her hand over his chest and back. Her very touch sent a chill up and down his spine.

Heath stepped out of her reach, "I think you got enough sweat and blood outta me to have been paid off in full a long time ago." He started to leave.

"We were good to you, you ungrateful bastard!" yelled Martha. Heath whipped around to face the Simmons.

"Good to me? You had me working day and night with little food. If I so much as thought of taking off, or if you believed I had done wrong, you had me tied in that basement and whipped like a dog. There were days I wished I would have died, just so you couldn't torment me. And why? My only crime was that I didn't know who my father was. Now I find out you always did."

He turned and walked out of the hotel, quickly mounting his horse and headed back to the express station.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I was setting the table for dinner when Heath rode up to the house. With plates in hand I stepped out onto the porch.

"Have you seen Jarrod?" he asked. He was in such an aggravated state that it went right to his horse, making him dance around.

"Heath why don't ya go unsaddle your horse and get washed up. Dinner is just about ready." I was trying to defuse that stick of dynamite and when he smiled I knew that I had at least slowed it down a mite.

He dismounted and pulled his horse towards the barn and I was turning to go back into the kitchen when the shot rang out. Even as I turned I knew what I would see, Heath laying in a heap on the ground. I could see Nick and Jarrod next to the barn both had their guns drawn. A voice hollered from a grove of trees to my left.

"Now we got more blood out of you!"

Heath hadn't moved the entire time and I could see that Nick was getting a bit nervous not knowing how badly his brother was hurt. We waited until we heard a horse gallop away before moving forward to check on Heath.

Nick crawled through the fence and trotted over to where Heath lay on the ground. I also had moved toward the prone body.

Nick carefully rolled Heath onto his back. Heath grabbed Nick's arm.

"Help me up will you?" he asked as he tried to sit up.

"Heath I need to check you for holes, you know the kind that bleed," said Nick as he looked his brother over and to his relief found no blood.

"I'm all right. He didn't hit me," said Heath as he now stood brushing his brother's concerned hands away. I brushed some of the dust off of the back of his shirt.

"You gave us all a scare, Heath, you sure you're alright?" I asked.

Jarrod approached still looking around with caution and much relief to see Heath standing on his own. He made his way over to us.

"Are you alright Heath?" he had asked the question in genuine concern. Before anyone could stop him, Heath threw a punch to the lawyer's jaw putting his backside into the dirt. Heath stood over him with Nick holding his arm.

"You knew about me all along," he said through clenched teeth.

"Knew what?" asked Nick looking from Jarrod to Heath.

"He knew about me! My father knew about me and you did nothing!" Heath pulled his arm from Nick's grasp and moved to collect his horse.

Nick looked down at Jarrod, "You knew about Heath?" when Jarrod nodded his head, Nick growled and started toward Jarrod. I grabbed his arm.

"I think you need to hear the entire story before you throw that punch," I said. I could feel the muscles tighten under my grasp. I released Nick's arm and moved towards the house, "Supper is just about ready. Jarrod can tell his story while we eat."

"Alright Jarrod, you had better explain and if I don't like the explanation I'll tear you apart, brother or not." Nick growled as he walked towards the house. Heath took his horse to the barn, we all left Jarrod still sitting in the dirt holding his jaw.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Everyone sat at the table looking at Jarrod, who tried his best not to look like an insect under a magnifying glass. No one spoke as they passed the food around; the only sounds were of the silverware clinking against the china dishes as the boys dished out their servings. The scraping of my chair as I stood to get the coffee sounded like thunder in the quiet room.

"Heath you've got to understand. I was fourteen years old, when Matt Simmons rode onto the ranch. He demanded that Father pay them money for your care," Jarrod made a bold move starting first: he deserved credit for that. He pressed on hoping that his brother would understand what had happened those many years ago.

"Simmons had even brought a child along with him. Father took one look at the boy and told Simmons to get off the ranch."

"Why?" asked Nick looking at Heath, "Couldn't he see how much Heath looks like him?"

"That's just it Nick! The boy Simmons had with him had dark hair and brown eyes; he bore no resemblance to a Barkley let alone Father." Jarrod paused letting this bit of information sink in. "Heath, do you have any memory of coming to the ranch? Ever?"

Heath shook his head; "No," was his quiet reply. Jarrod looked at me.

"May, when Heath was working for you what did he look like?"

"He was a bit taller than some of the boys his age. He was on the thin side, with blue eyes and sandy blonde hair."

"If I recall, you showed Mother a picture of your mother with you. Taken when you were about six or seven, correct?" asked Jarrod. "You have always had blond hair. So the kid that Simmons brought with him was not you."

Heath nodded. He reached up to his shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. He looked at it for a moment, and then looked at Jarrod.

"They claimed they had guardianship. They claim my mother had given it to them when I was six." He held out the envelope to Jarrod, "That's seven years of abuse and hunger and sleeping in the damp cellar I went through."

Jarrod took the extended envelope. He looked at Heath as if asking for permission to read its contents. Heath gave a nod and Jarrod scanned the paper inside.

Jarrod lifted his eyes to Heath, "It's a legal document. However, _how_ it was obtained could have it voided. Did the Simmons say they want anything?"

"Yeah, they want $5,000.00 dollars."

"5,000.00 dollars!" Nick huffed. "What the hell for?"

"For supposedly taking care of my mother and me," replied Heath, "if that's what ya want to call it." Heath pushed back his chair, moving to stand next to the window, looking out into the darkness.

"Maybe that is why Rachel Caulfield was killed. She may have known how they got your mother to give them guardianship," I said. Looking at Heath I could feel for him. Thinking now that his mother had given him up and that the man he found to be his father refused to acknowledge him.

"Heath I will look into this for you, I promise. I will find out the truth, good or bad," said Jarrod. He had gotten up to stand next to Heath. Placing a hand on Heath's shoulder he said, "Father didn't abandon you. He most likely never knew you existed."

"If Simmons showed up at the ranch with a kid and he tried to pass the kid off as a Barkley, you would think that Father would have investigated just to make sure Simmons wasn't lying," said Nick. He gave Heath a quick glance, "If he had went looking, he would have found Heath and the boy would have grown up with us, like he should have in the first place." He looked back at Jarrod as he finished speaking. I could tell he was giving Jarrod a hard look and making him feel guilty. I guess in a way I felt he deserved to feel that way, yet on the other hand Jarrod was going to investigate the Simmons and maybe bring some peace of mind to all the Barkley boys.

"May," asked Jarrod "I need to send a wire. Where is the closest town?"

"That would be Placerville. It's a day's ride to the west."

"Then I will leave first thing in the morning." Turning to his brothers, "Think you two can get along without me for a couple of days?"

Heath and Nick looked at each other, "Does a buck have antlers?" asked Nick with his dimpled grin. Jarrod looked at me.

"Would you please see that they stay out of trouble while I am gone?"

I laughed looking at the three brothers. "I am sure I can come up with enough work to keep them occupied."

Heath gave us his lop sided grin, "That's the truth." The smile faded then he open the door and stepped out into the darkness, each of us silently swearing that we were going to get Heath through this. He deserved to be happy and he deserved his family.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Jarrod rode into Placerville earlier than he had expected. He acquired a room at the local hotel. He located the telegraph office, after asking for directions.

He sent a wire to the judge who had signed the papers that Heath's aunt and uncle had given him. He was asking for a meeting with him. Jarrod filled out the paper and handed it to the operator, who scanned it quickly then looked at Jarrod.

"Sir I can save you the cost of sending this wire," the operator quickly wrote down an address and handed it back to Jarrod.

"Judge visits his daughter once a year about this time. They will be having dinner tonight at the hotel. It's his grandson's birthday, it's always a celebration."

Jarrod couldn't believe his luck, "Well send one to him just to let him know I would like to speak with him anyway."

"Would you like me to send him one as a courtesy?" asked the operator.

"Please, I would hate to drop in unannounced and be surprised at the reception." Jarrod turned to go, "I will be at the hotel," he said as he exited the door.

After a hot bath and a nap Jarrod felt refreshed. As he was dressing for dinner there was a light tap on his door. He opened it and was surprised to find an older man with gray hair, dressed in formal attire. He held in his hand his hat and cane.

"Jarrod Barkley?" he asked.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I am Judge Saddler. I believe you wanted to speak with me?"

Startled by the man's appearance at his door, Jarrod hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door wider allowing the Judge to enter.

The room's furniture was limited to one chair and the bed. Jarrod offered the judge the chair and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"How can I help you Mr. Barkley?" asked the judge as he settled into the chair.

"Well sir, some years ago you had brought to you a case for guardianship."

"Mr. Barkley, there have been many such cases in my court," said the judge in tired voice. "Would you care to be a bit more specific?"

"It would have been about eighteen years ago. In the town of Strawberry. A Mr. And Mrs. Simmons had been granted guardianship of a six year old boy, their nephew."

"Ah yes, I recall the case. The Simmons claimed that they were providing for the child's welfare. His mother worked in a saloon and his father could not be located."

"The father couldn't be located?" asked Jarrod.

"Yes that is what they claimed. The mother was single and working in a saloon as I recall."

"Your Honor, I know for a fact that Mr. Simmons knew who and where the boy's father was located."

"And how do you know this?" asked the Judge.

"Sir, I was there the day Mr. Simmons came to our ranch, seeking compensation for taking care of the child."

"And why would Mr. Simmons come to your ranch looking for compensation, Mr. Barkley?" Judge Saddler had begun to wonder where this was all coming from.

"Because your Honor, that man is my brother."

"Brother? Now I am confused.'

"My father, and Heath Thomson's father was Thomas Barkley. Heath came to live with us a few years ago."

"But you just said that Simmons came to your ranch looking for compensation – when was that?"

"After he gained guardianship of the boy. He brought a boy to the ranch, and told my father he had another son. Simmons thought he could get money from our father, compensation for caring for the child."

Judge Saddler looked at Jarrod. "But if he did that, Simmons would have lost guardianship of the child. And I believe your brother would have known who is father was. Unless of course," and here he stopped, conscious of what he was saying, "your father didn't want the child with his family?"

"On the contrary Judge, I believe my father would have welcomed Heath into our family. But the boy Simmons brought with him was not my brother; it was someone bore no resemblance to my father or our family. Simmons couldn't take the chance that father would see Heath and take away what he thought was his way to easy money. So he took another child, hoping to scare my father. He had no idea my father would run him off, and not believe him."

The judge sighed and sat deeper into his chair. "I always felt that there was something wrong with the way the Simmons presented their case. And the way Leah Thomson looked when I granted them guardianship. She looked like a balloon that had just had its air released. She begged me to reconsider, but I was young. I was trying to make a name for myself. If I could reverse the decision I would gladly do it."

"Judge Saddler, you just may be able to do that," smiled Jarrod. "According to the document you gave the Simmons guardianship until Heath's twenty-first birthday. They are claiming that they have supported him all this time, when in reality they haven't supported him at all since he was twelve. I can obtain an affidavit stating he worked for the pony express for a year, and then joined the army for three years- he spent the last year in a prison camp in Texas."

"The Simmons never looked for him? Surely the war department sent out letters to the families of those that were in the prison camps, informing them."

"They never looked, Judge. They left that boy to suffer in that camp. Afterwards he did many odd jobs, anything to stay away from Strawberry and the Simmons. He sent all his money to his mother for her care. He's just found out within the past few days about the guardianship."

"Mr. Barkley, you get those statements and I will have the guardianship vacated effective the day it as granted. It sounds to me that this boy has already gone through enough in his life time..." The judge stood and shook Jarrod's hand. "Now, I really must go. We're having a special dinner tonight, but I would be interested in meeting this man. What is his name?"

"Heath Barkley, your Honor, a man I am proud to call my brother." Jarrod shook the judge's hand. "I'll get those affidavits to you immediately. How long will you be in town?"

"Another week. Here, let me give you an address at which to reach me. I'll look forward to getting those affidavits." Jarrod gave the judge a paper on which to write his address, took it when he was finished, and he walked the judge to the door. "Thank you for listening Judge; this will mean a great deal to my brother." Jarrod smiled as he closed the door behind the judge.

Now all that remained was the matter of Rachel Caulfield's mysterious death, and Jarrod already had a pretty good idea of the 'who' and 'why' of that as well.

Early the next morning as Jarrod was leaving the hotel, the desk clerk stopped him.

"Mr. Barkley? Judge Saddler sent this for you this morning," he said handing Jarrod an envelope. Opening it, he scanned the letter and the document it came with. With a smile that would make a Cheshire cat envious, he thanked the clerk and made his way to the livery.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

We had all the stock that was going with the Barkleys into a corral. The stuff I had planned on keeping we turned back out, till I got the new stallion. The boys had been 'green breaking' some of the stock. When I say 'green breaking' that's what it means. The horses are use to having a saddle on their backs and a bit in their mouths and the weight of a rider, from that they know nothing else. It takes time to really break a horse and there are some that just don't take to the idea. Most everyone has idea on how to break a horse, throw a saddle on it let'ur buck till it gives in.

But not Heath; no his idea goes beyond that, he likes to get into the horse's mind. He uses body language and a soft voice. Body language is something the horse can read and understand. Watch what happens with a toss of the head, a flick of the tail, and the twitch of an ear or the stomp of a hoof, it's all horse talk.

You can tell who the boss is in a herd and who the horse on the bottom is. The boss horse is the one horse that can part the herd; she is usually the first one to get the feed and the first one to the water hole. The horse on the bottom is the last to get to the feed and the last to the water hole and always moves out of the way for the boss horse.

The boss horse doesn't make for a good mount. Always wants its own way but on the same token you don't want the bottom horse, you'll never get anywhere. But sometimes there are surprises.

These were the horses that I had culled from my herd. The very horses that Heath and Nick spent two days green breaking.

I had figured that Jarrod would be back here at the station sometime this evening.

I had done my best to keep the two Barkley boys out of trouble. But it found us anyway. It came in the form of Martha Simmons. I had noticed her first. She arrived in a buckboard with her gold hair done up and wearing a gown that had seen better days. Oh she thought she looked like royalty that's for sure - it took all I had to keep from laughing.

Nick was in the barn putting some tack away and Heath was shoeing his bay horse next to the barn. I was in the middle of doing laundry.

Nick came out of the barn about the time Martha picked up the rifle that had been next to her, hidden by her dress. She didn't aim it she just shot and the bullet hit true. Heath had his back to her when she fired and this time we could see that it hadn't missed. The power of the slug slammed Heath face first into the barn wall; as he started to slide down the wall he managed to right himself enough to get turned around to face Martha. With his back now against the wall he slid down to a sitting position. Nick started toward Heath but another shot just inches from his feet stopped him.

"Mr. Barkley, you move as much as a hair and you'll get the same as that no good bastard." Martha looked my way, "Mrs. Roberts, would you be as kind as to join me for a ride? The fresh air will do us some good and it's been ages since we've talked." It was like we were seeing two different people. But that rifle did do a lot in persuading me to go.

She turned back to Nick. "Now then, Mr. Barkley if you would please load that dirt smelling nephew of mine into the wagon I will be on my way. It seems that it is always left to me to take care of the trash."

Nick slowly made his way over to Heath. As gently as he could he pulled his brother up, then half carried, half dragged him to the buckboard. Carefully he loaded Heath into the back. I watched as Nick leaned close and whispered something and then lovingly ran his hand through Heath's hair, his worry for his brother very obvious.

With a wave of the rifle Martha herded us to the barn. Once there she had Nick go into the tack room and had me close and lock the door. I prayed that Jarrod arrived soon as we headed back to the wagon.

With a wave of the rifle I climbed into the wagon. I adjusted my skirt and decided to play along.

"Mrs. Simmons I was wondering if you were going to stop by. You sure you wouldn't like to stay for some tea?" I said it in my sweetest voice, trying to convince her to stay here at the station.

Well, it didn't work. Martha waved Nick back with the rifle. She expertly picked up the reins in one hand and still holding the rifle with the other, she moved the horse out of the station yard at a trot. I glanced back towards the barn and could see Nick looking out the dirty tack room window, staring after us. I gave him a nod, and then settled down for the ride.

We hadn't gone far when Martha stopped the wagon. Taking out a length of rope she looked at me. I knew what she intended so I complied, not wanting to loose my chance to find out what was going to happen. I had heard that a cooperative captive can get the capture to talk to you like you were long lost friends. Like I said, I had heard that.

Martha set the rifle down and withdrew another length of rope and tied Heath's hands also. She was cruel in her handling of him. She had wretched his arms behind him and tied him so tight that I could tell she had cut the circulation off in his hands.

"Why are you doing this, Mrs. Simmons?" I ventured forth.

"We spent most of our lives trying to support this boy, when his mother couldn't. We fed him and clothed him and when he needed a place to sleep we gave it to him. We even took him to the doctor when he needed it, which seemed often." She gave a bitter little laugh as she climbed back into the wagon. "Do you know what we got in return? Not one thing."

"He is the most ungrateful child I have ever known. That boy got into more trouble than you could shake a stick at. He had to be disciplined." She paused, "He had to be disciplined." She repeated it quietly. I could tell that she believed what she was telling me.

We didn't go through Strawberry; instead she took a road to the south that led to the old mines. A shiver went down my spine, were we to meet the same fate as Rachel Caulfield?

"All he had to do was pay us the money." Martha was mumbling incoherent sentences, some of which I caught.

"I killed Rachel." She said it loud and was looking at me. "She was going to stop us from going to the Barkleys."

"But didn't Tom Barkley tell you he wasn't his son?" I asked.

"That was a stupid mistake on Matt's part. But we wanted to get guardianship, so we used another boy, so that Barkley wouldn't claim his kid. Matt thought that Leah would write Barkley and tell him that the boy was his and he would send money for his care, only Leah wouldn't get it, we would. It was going to be our ticket out of this dead end town." Martha pulled the wagon to a stop. "Leah wouldn't write the letter, so we hurt her where it mattered most. We took her son. He was the most unruly child, and needed to be disciplined." She said it like it left a bad taste in her mouth and she had to spit it out. "The day we went to court, I slipped Leah a little something. The judge thought she was drunk, and he signed the papers straightaway. We thought all of our problems were going to be taken care of." By now she had gotten out of the wagon and was standing at the back looking at Heath.

"He left us high and dry. The town died and he left us there to rot with it." She said bitterly, "We heard that he was in a prison camp down in Texas somewhere. Matt wanted to go get the bastard, but me I figured if we left him there he would suffer, just like we had. Matt does everything I say. He was a weak man with no backbone. I needed someone strong to help me make my plan work."

I noticed that she used the word _was_ in reference to Matt. It made me think that Matt was no longer with the living.

"We were surprised to see him just before his mother died. I had hoped he had died in that prison, but no, there he was, standing tall like he was a king or something. Then we heard that the Barkleys had taken him in. I knew that we had been given another chance to reap our fortune. Rachel she didn't want us bothering the Barkleys. She said she would go to the law if we did. She said she knew that we had cheated Leah out of her son and that we had cheated Heath out of the life he could have had with the Barkleys." She paused again looking at me, "But I killed her." She said the last statement with no feeling, even her eyes were cold.

"What did Rachel Caulfield know?" asked a masculine voice from behind me. Startled Martha shifted her rifle to point it at the new comer. Jarrod stood calmly holding his horse's reins, Nick stood beside him.

Martha gave a nervous laugh, as she tried to smooth out her dress with one hand, "She knew that I had drugged Leah. She knew that I had to discipline the boy. She knew that the boy Matt had taken to the Barkleys that day wasn't Heath. She knew everything! She was a nosey busy body and needed to be dealt with." she paused looking around, "We were going to be rich, Mr. Phelps and I. He was going to buy me a carriage with a matching team and a new dress. We were going to be the talk of the town!"

"With Barkley money?" asked Nick as he kept a worried on his brother who was showing signs of coming around.

"Oh, no." laughed Martha. "Mr. Phelps was going to sell shares in the mines. He figured to pepper them to lure in the buyers. By the time they figured out the had been taken we would have been gone." A darkness filled Martha's eyes, "Rachel, found out about that too."

Martha suddenly blinked several times, a shaky hand covered her mouth, "I killed Matt, didn't I." She asked in a husky voice.

Nick nodded his head, "We found him at the hotel, along with your buddy Phelps."

"Well he was a weak man. It must run in the family. I need a strong man, like Mr. Phelps." The change in her was astonishing and quick.

Heath had been awake for most of her confession and was now standing weakly next to the wagon holding his left arm close to his body. Martha turned suddenly and looked at him.

"It's your fault, you know. If you would have paid up like you should have none of this would have happened!" she raised the rifle aiming it at Heath, "You need to be punished!"

Before she could pull the trigger another gun fired off from my right. Martha dropped the rifle and fell to the ground. Nick moved in quickly moving the rifle from Martha's reach. Jarrod knelt down next to Martha. He stood up from where she lay and turned to survey the rest of the scene. Nick had cut my hands free and had freed Heath. He forced Heath to sit next to the wagon and was checking the shoulder wound.

We all looked in shock at the newcomer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 Conclusion**

I had moved over to wrap my arms around the newcomer: Hannah.

Hannah stood shaking in my arms; she had already dropped the pistol she had used to save our lives. She looked at me with tears running down her dark face.

"I couldn't let her hurt my Heath anymore." She paused and looked to where the Barkley boys stood, "He will be alright?"

"Yes Hannah, he took a bullet in the shoulder and lost a bit of blood but he should be just fine, thanks to you." I held her by the elbow as we walked toward the boys. Heath gave her one of his crooked smiles despite the pain he was in.

"Come on let's get you back to May's and get you cleaned up," said Nick as he moved Heath to the wagon.

"What about her?" asked Heath as he looked at Martha lying on the ground.

"The law will deal with her," said Jarrod as he moved to stand next to Heath and Nick.

"She is a crazy loon, Jarrod. She tried to kill Heath and did kill two other people and for what?"

"Money, Nick, money," replied Jarrod.

"They knew who my father was before I was born. Why didn't my mother try to contact him?" asked Heath.

Hannah and I came to stand next to the boys and looked at the woman who had been so filled with hate that she had abused and then tried to use Heath against his family.

Hannah reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a letter. She handed it silently to Heath putting the letter firmly in his hands.

"Your mama she didn't want to give you to them. But they made her look bad and the judge signed the papers before she could get a hold of Tom Barkley. She knew that if he did know about you that she would lose you again to him, but she also knew that it would have been better for you to grow up know' in your father and your brothers than to be treated like scum here with her." She pointed to Martha who was now sitting next to the wagon leaning her upper body against the wheel. Her hair falling down in her face and her dress covered with dirt and blood from the shoulder wound inflicted by Hannah's shot.

"The letter is from your mama. I was to give it to you awhile back, but I kept thinkin that you were where you belonged and that the letter didn't matter." Her dark eyes held Heath's blue ones, she smiled, "Please, forgive an old woman's thinkin."

"There's nothin to forgive Hannah." replied Heath softly giving her a gentle one armed hug.

Jarrod with the help of Judge Saddler put Martha Simmons into a place where she would be well taken care of. An asylum.

Judge Saddler also withdrew guardianship from the Simmons. He had met with Heath and they had talked for sometime before the judge made his decision.

After a week's rest the Barkley boys rounded up their horses and headed for home. Heath's injury was a deep cut across the top of his shoulder. Nothing more, but the loss of blood had left him weak.

Before they left Heath sat on the front porch like he did that first day they had come. I sat in my rocking chair mending my old skirt. Just enjoying the company and not saying much. Jarrod and Nick sat in chairs with their feet on the railing smoking Jarrod's cigars.

When Heath began to speak, softly in that southern drawl, it seems that everything stopped. Even Nick remained quiet while he spoke. Heath shared with us what he had endured while living with the Simmons. He told us about all the missed meals, sleeping in the damp cellar with only one thin blanket in the winter time, being sick and not getting to see the doctor. How they made him work in the mines and taking all his earnings, for his so called care. How he had pleaded with his mother to take him back, thinking that she had abandoned him. The beatings he got when he ran away and the fear for his mother when his uncle found out that Leah had hidden him from them. He told us a story of things that no child should ever have to go through, but he said as he was finishing his tale, the best thing to come was the Pony Express. It was his salvation, he escaped from his aunt and uncle while he was here and again when he joined the army. He stayed away from the people he loved because of what the Simmons would do to them if they knew that they knew where he was.

Jarrod bowed his head, "If Father had known you were here he would have come for you Heath. I know he would have."

"It was a hard life Jarrod, but it taught me something." said Heath.

"Yeah what's that?" asked Nick.

"It has taught me to be thankful I have another family." He gave us one of those rare big smiles.

I smiled thinking that Heath had faced some of his memories and in a way those memories were like horses, you have to set them free to be free.


End file.
